Latest news with #DexysMidnightRunners
The Guardian
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Kevin Rowland: ‘If I could bring something extinct back to life it would be the Labour party'
Born in Wolverhampton, Kevin Rowland, 71, was a hairdresser before forming Dexys Midnight Runners. The band had their first hit in 1980 with Geno. In 1982, Come On Eileen was Britain's bestselling single; the following year, it went to No 1 in the US. Over five decades, Dexys released six studio albums including The Feminine Divine in 2023. As a solo artist, Rowland released two albums, The Wanderer in 1988 and My Beauty in 1999. Bless Me Father, Rowland's memoir, has just been published. He lives in London and has a daughter. When were you happiest? On stage – the Old Vic in 1981 and Glastonbury last year. What is your greatest fear? Insanity. I am on a recovery programme – clean from drugs and drink for many years – and if I stopped doing all that stuff I'd go crazy pretty quick and pick up drugs again, because I was a real fucking addict. What is your earliest memory? Going pretend fishing in County Mayo, Ireland, with a stick and a bit of string tied to it, when I was three or four. Which living person do you most admire, and why? Gerry Adams, because he's got incredible integrity and vision, and he's had to put up with so much flak. What would your superpower be? Eternal youth. If you could bring something extinct back to life, what would you choose? The Labour party. Who is your celebrity crush? Elizabeth Taylor when she was 40 years old. What do you most dislike about your appearance? Don't get me started! What is the worst thing anyone's said to you? My dad said, 'You're going nowhere.' I was seven or eight. Would you choose fame or anonymity? Knowing what I know now, I'd choose anonymity – it's better for the soul. What is your guiltiest pleasure? I watch a lot of pranks on YouTube. What has been your closest brush with the law? I've been arrested about 15 times. In 1980, I was attacked by five youths. I ran into a building site and came out with a scaffold pole and hit one across the back. As I had two previous convictions for violence, it was looking like prison, but for a guilty plea, I got a nine-month suspended sentence. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion What did you dream about last night? I was in a social situation but I didn't have any trousers. What is the worst job you've done? I worked in the stores of Edgware hospital when I was about 17, and it was grey and depressing. What has been your biggest disappointment? My brother Pete passing on in 2005. If you could edit your past, what would you change? I'd have stuck with the original Dexys Midnight Runners look we started in 1978, which became known as the New Romantic look a couple of years later. Our management and record label talked us out of it. Later, Duran Duran and Spandau came out with that look and that made us look old-fashioned. What do you consider your greatest achievement? The contentment I have now. Would you rather have more sex, money or fame? Sex. What is the most important lesson life has taught you? Shakespeare said, 'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so' – I think that's true.
The Guardian
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Kevin Rowland: ‘If I could bring something extinct back to life it would be the Labour party'
Born in Wolverhampton, Kevin Rowland, 71, was a hairdresser before forming Dexys Midnight Runners. The band had their first hit in 1980 with Geno. In 1982, Come On Eileen was Britain's bestselling single; the following year, it went to No 1 in the US. Over five decades, Dexys released six studio albums including The Feminine Divine in 2023. As a solo artist, Rowland released two albums, The Wanderer in 1988 and My Beauty in 1999. Bless Me Father, Rowland's memoir, has just been published. He lives in London and has a daughter. When were you happiest? On stage – the Old Vic in 1981 and Glastonbury last year. What is your greatest fear? Insanity. I am on a recovery programme – clean from drugs and drink for many years – and if I stopped doing all that stuff I'd go crazy pretty quick and pick up drugs again, because I was a real fucking addict. What is your earliest memory? Going pretend fishing in County Mayo, Ireland, with a stick and a bit of string tied to it, when I was three or four. Which living person do you most admire, and why? Gerry Adams, because he's got incredible integrity and vision, and he's had to put up with so much flak. What would your superpower be? Eternal youth. If you could bring something extinct back to life, what would you choose? The Labour party. Who is your celebrity crush? Elizabeth Taylor when she was 40 years old. What do you most dislike about your appearance? Don't get me started! What is the worst thing anyone's said to you? My dad said, 'You're going nowhere.' I was seven or eight. Would you choose fame or anonymity? Knowing what I know now, I'd choose anonymity – it's better for the soul. What is your guiltiest pleasure? I watch a lot of pranks on YouTube. What has been your closest brush with the law? I've been arrested about 15 times. In 1980, I was attacked by five youths. I ran into a building site and came out with a scaffold pole and hit one across the back. As I had two previous convictions for violence, it was looking like prison, but for a guilty plea, I got a nine-month suspended sentence. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion What did you dream about last night? I was in a social situation but I didn't have any trousers. What is the worst job you've done? I worked in the stores of Edgware hospital when I was about 17, and it was grey and depressing. What has been your biggest disappointment? My brother Pete passing on in 2005. If you could edit your past, what would you change? I'd have stuck with the original Dexys Midnight Runners look we started in 1978, which became known as the New Romantic look a couple of years later. Our management and record label talked us out of it. Later, Duran Duran and Spandau came out with that look and that made us look old-fashioned. What do you consider your greatest achievement? The contentment I have now. Would you rather have more sex, money or fame? Sex. What is the most important lesson life has taught you? Shakespeare said, 'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so' – I think that's true.
Irish Examiner
03-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
Culture That Made Me: Cork DJ Shane Johnson picks his touchstones
Born in 1970, Shane Johnson grew up in Bishopstown, Co Cork. In 1988, he started DJing with Greg Dowling. As Fish Go Deep, the duo also began releasing music. Their residency sets at Sir Henry's nightclub in Cork in the 1990s have attained legendary status. The bi-weekly podcast of their long-running radio show has clocked more than 5 million listens. He will perform with Martin Roche (Get Down Edits) at Cork's Lee Rowing Club, Saturday, August 9, as part of a series of club nights that will also include Alexis Taylor of Hot Chip (Fri, Aug 8) See: Johnson also plays Eden in Ibiza on Sept 5. The Jesus and Mary Chain I loved Psychocandy by the Jesus and Mary Chain. I was drawn to the sheer antisocial aspects of it. You're a teenager, what are you gonna do? Play music that sounds like barbed wire. The album was tremendously exciting. Listening back with the ears I have now, underneath all the distortion, I can hear stuff like Phil Spector. There are actual pop songs in there, but they're buried beneath this obnoxious sound, which appealed to me. Dexys Midnight Runners Searching for the Young Soul Rebels by Dexys Midnight Runners was such a different record to what came out of UK pop music on its release in 1980. I started listening to it a few years later. The references were back to black music. The band had a look and an attitude that grabbed me. On the album's first song, Kevin Rowland runs through a list of Irish writers, including Oscar Wilde, Sean O'Casey, George Bernard Shaw. That sunk in subconsciously – you didn't hear too many Irish references in British pop music around that time. Def Jam Recordings My dad was into jazz. He had a great hi-fi system in the front room. I love jazz now, but as a teenager, it was an annoyance, not what I wanted to hear. The first genre music I picked up on was hip hop. I got into the Def Jam stuff, coming out of New York – Public Enemy, LL Cool J, Eric B. & Rakim. Public Enemy's first album, Yo! Bum Rush the Show, was a different sound. The lyrics are political and anti-establishment, which appeals to teenagers. It was eye-opening – Chuck D was giving you the news from the streets as opposed to the TV. Sir Henry's Sir Henrys, South Main Street, Cork. The first time I was in Sir Henry's was my brother's 21st birthday around 1984. It was a fancy dress party. I was massively underage, but I got in because I was in disguise. It was my first experience of the lights, the music, all these people smiling and dancing. I've held that memory as a DJ. When you're looking down on this heaving mass of people, everyone having the night of their lives, you feed into those experiences and memories yourself as a DJ. Sometimes you can get complacent as a DJ. You must catch yourself when it's great, keeping in mind it's not always as good as this. Since leaving Henry's, Greg and myself have had plenty of good nights elsewhere, but it's hard match nights we had there. Mike Pickering Mike Pickering, from the Haçienda in Manchester, was the first DJ Greg Dowling and myself brought over to Sir Henry's. He was massively influential. Greg and myself had been trying to figure out the mechanics of DJing. To see someone more experienced, on another level in terms of his selection and the way he put music together, up close was inspiring. Joe Claussell In the late 1990s, we brought Joe Claussell over to Sir Henry's. He was a big DJ in New York. He had a way to frame songs – he'd play a song you wouldn't think is a song for the dance floor, but the context he played it, with the song he played before and after it, turned it into a song that made sense on the dance floor. That was eye opening – the epitome of a great club DJ is taking a song, making it their own, using context all the time. Tokyo Olympics Around 1983, I got a ticket for my favourite band at the time – Human League at Cork's City Hall, but they cancelled the gig. There was a storm. Their gear hadn't arrived by ferry. I was inconsolable. My older sister, Gina, took pity on me. She brought me down to the Regional Tech, where a Dublin band, Tokyo Olympics, were playing. I've a memory of the wise arse on the door saying to my sister, 'Do you want a family ticket, love?' I bought a box of 10 Major [cigarettes] for the occasion. My older brother, Billy, was at the gig. He was bumming fags off me for the night. I remember the band being great. They made one album, Radio. I relistened to it recently. It holds up well. The Smiths The Smiths in 1985. (Photo by) In 1984, I went to see The Smiths at the Savoy. One of my siblings brought me along. That was amazing – to see the fervour of the crowd, Morrissey on stage in his pomp, flowers everywhere, sticking out his back pocket. Just being overwhelmed by the experience, the noise, the slight edge of danger, not sure what's gonna happen. That's what gives live music and clubbing the real edge. Art Farmer I've been to tons of memorable gigs at the Cork Jazz Festival. On a Sunday night, for after-hours, where you'd get musicians still hanging around playing little sessions in the Metropole Hotel, my dad always slipped me in with a friend or two to catch impromptu gigs there. One year stands out. I was with a good friend, Joe Corcoran, who's since died. We sat in one of the small rooms, to see Art Farmer. He played flugelhorn and trumpet. He would have been almost 70. He played the most sublime set. The Second Woman Eileen Walsh in The Second Woman at Cork Opera House. Picture: Jed Niezgoda. I saw The Second Woman in Cork Midsummer Festival with Eileen Walsh playing the same scene repeatedly – with different actors, a hundred actors – for 24 hours. It's a seven-minute scene. It changes depending on what the other actor brings, their attitude, and how she reacts. My wife and I went up to Maureen's for a pint after an hour and a half of it. Having discussed it, we got into it again for a couple of hours. Then left in the early hours of the morning and came back the next morning to see how things were going. It was a fabulous experience. It shows what you can do with theatre. Geoff Dyer Geoff Dyer is such a funny writer. His interests resonate – the way he talks about men and their obsessions. There's nobody like him. He's invented an entire category for himself – it's not memoir, biography nor travel. It's bits of all these things. He's an amazing eye. His recall is phenomenal. His latest book, Homework, a memoir of his early years, is painted so vividly. It's a beautiful book to immerse yourself in. I enjoy his writing so much. Scarecrow Scarecrow is a movie from the 1970s featuring Gene Hackman and Al Pacino. People in the know say it's a great unsung movie, directed by Jerry Schatzberg. Both actors are the best versions of themselves. Sometimes Pacino can be too big, but he was contained in it. Hackman is always brilliant. They play two interesting characters. It's great.
Irish Times
02-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Bless Me Father by Kevin Rowland: Dexys star gives a powerful account of his life
Bless Me Father: A Life Story Author : Kevin Rowland ISBN-13 : 978-1529958720 Publisher : Ebury Spotlight Guideline Price : £25 The Colonel and the King Tom Parker, Elvis Presley and the Partnership that Rocked the World Author : Peter Guralnick ISBN-13 : 978-1399635295 Publisher : White Rabbit Guideline Price : £35 Kevin Rowland and Dexys Midnight Runners made three of the best albums of the 1980s. Now, it is time for him to tell some of the best stories. A press release announces this is Rowland's first book and 'he does not intend to write another'. A previous effort to capture Rowland's extraordinary life in print was documented by Ted Kessler in 2022's Paper Cuts: How I Destroyed the British Music Press and Other Misadventures, where the former Q editor memorably wrote: 'The chemistry isn't right between us? Is Kevin Rowland of Dexys Midnight Runners breaking up with me?' Kessler's project was abandoned as Rowland felt his story should be told in his own voice, which makes Bless Me Father: A Life Story a breathtakingly raw and unvarnished read. Rowland's vocals are a famously innovative take on a soulful croon where he sounds like he is crying. Sometimes, there is a slight sense of him gently sobbing when he writes. He seems incapable of acknowledging his talent and success, let alone daring to blow his own trumpet. READ MORE As its title suggests, Catholic guilt looms large. Rowland opts for a confessional tone that is remarkably candid, telling how a devoted altar boy, who often served multiple masses a day, transformed into a teenage truant who ran away from home and got into numerous brushes with the law. Rowland had a volatile and estranged relationship with his father, who regularly beat him up and treated him like the black sheep of the family. One of the most moving aspects of Bless Me Father is how their relationship became tender and loving before Rowland's dad died in 2021 at the grand age of 102. In addition to his trials and tribulations at home, Rowland became confused about his identity. He perfected a chameleon-like ability to change his accent when he returned to England from Crossmolina, Co Mayo, and yet again when his family relocated from Birmingham to London, where Rowland was forced to drop his Brummie burr and adopt clipped Cockney tones to avoid getting a hiding. This constant need to look over his shoulder, both at home and on the street, contributed to Rowland becoming adaptable but anxious. Clothes are a huge part of Kevin Rowland's story and identity. Photograph: Nicky Johnston Despite morphing his accent, Rowland continued to follow Wolverhampton Wanderers while living in London. He witnessed England's triumph over West Germany at the World Cup Final in Wembley in 1966 and enjoyed a highly memorable encounter with Muhammad Ali. Still cherishing the memory nearly 60 years later, he writes: 'My dad, a strict disciplinarian and a staunch Irish republican, dropping me off at Wembley Way, knowing I was planning to bunk into the World Cup final to support England. It was like a positive spell had taken over London.' Unlike so many hackneyed rock memoirs about acts plagued by division and infighting, Rowland doesn't seem at all interested in settling scores. Instead, he proffers profuse apologies for past behaviour. He says sorry for ejecting two girlfriends of other band members off a tour bus due to his strict adherence to a no-partners rule, begging for their forgiveness if they happen to be reading. His recollections of his years in the throes of cocaine addiction are harrowing. Ultimately, after a few false starts, he emerges as a survivor. Considering he once consumed a cocktail of a staggering amount of powdered ecstasy tablets mixed with lager, it is fortuitous that he has even lived to tell these tall tales. His experience of the early 90s was mad, rather than madferit. Clothes are a huge part of his story and identity. A former hairdresser, Rowland rues the decision to change their look for a high-profile tour with The Specials before achieving breakthrough success. 'I feel we missed an opportunity to become the most culturally significant and coolest group of the 1980s,' Rowland laments. 'I have found it very hard to forgive myself for that decision. In fact, I've tortured myself about it over the years.' The New Romantic look they dabbled with was ditched for dungarees, a look captured in the video of their career-defining hit, Come on Eileen, their second number one following Geno and also a chart-topper in the United States. Kevin Rowland has raised the game for autobiographies by musicians at a time when they are in danger of becoming a predictable late career exercise. Photograph: David Corio/ Redferns When Rowland signed a record deal he was already jaded and completely sick of the music industry. He garnered a fiercely committed fan base, many of whom have stuck with him to this day, yet he reveals his paranoia and scepticism extended to those who loved his group the most. 'I didn't even trust the fans who would come to wish us well after a gig,' he writes. 'I thought they might have agendas, having spoken to other band members about me.' Rowland has gone through the mill and produced a powerful account of his life, but I'm not so sure if he realises just how great an achievement it is. Music memoir publishing has blossomed in the wake of Keith Richards' Life in 2010, and Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run in 2016. As the 21st century splutters towards the end of its first quarter, Rowland has raised the game for autobiographies by musicians at a time when they are in danger of becoming a predictable late-career exercise. [ Passion, booze, madness and comradeship: Bruce Springsteen's special relationship with Ireland Opens in new window ] As Oasis dominate the headlines with their reunion tour trundling into Croke Park, this is a thrilling tale of how another second-generation Irishman with Mayo roots conquered a world of his own creation. Rowland didn't enjoy fame when he was in the thick of it in the early 1980s, and there was also a messy and prolonged financial fallout, so he deserves to savour his terrific career and this marvellous book about a life less ordinary. At both the beginning and the end of Bless Me Father, Rowland quotes lyrics from the Elvis song Follow That Dream, which Springsteen has also covered. Elvis Presley and his manager Colonel Tom Parker are surrounded by armed services police in Hawaii, 1961. Photograph: Michael Ochs Archives/ Getty Images Presley's veteran biographer, Peter Guralnick, whose books Last Train to Memphis and Careless Love are widely considered to be definitive accounts, now turns to Colonel Tom Parker, the mysterious Svengali figure said to have made Presley's success possible, in The Colonel and the King: Tom Parker, Elvis Presley and the Partnership that Rocked the World . He was neither a colonel nor a Parker, but a Dutch immigrant named Andreas van Kuijk, who entered the United States illegally when he was 20 years old, where he claimed he was American born, assumed a new identity and enlisted in the army. In an era when immigration is yet again such a contentious powder keg, an illegal immigrant playing such an instrumental role in creating the Elvis phenomenon, which was arguably America's defining cultural export of the 20th century, is richly ironic. Colonel Parker worked as a carny in a travelling circus and became inducted into the world of entertainment. He pioneered a gimmick called the Wedding on the Wheel, where he would visit a local courthouse and collect the names of every couple who had applied for a marriage licence. After choosing a couple at random, they were wed on a Ferris wheel and Parker procured them a dress, suit and a bridal suite from local businesses. As a result of such early marketing masterclasses, Parker ended up working with Gene Austin and rejuvenated the prototype crooner's career. Seeking new challenges, the colonel expanded into management. Sun Studio founder Sam Phillips discovered Elvis, but Colonel Parker made him a superstar, steering him towards RCA Records and subsequently breaking every record in existence. Presley sold a whopping 12 million records in 1956 alone and an Elvis song held the number one spot on either the pop, country or R&B charts for a staggering 80 weeks that year. His advice to Elvis at this thrilling, but terrifying juncture was three short words: 'Stay the course.' Elvis Presley with his manager Colonel Tom Parker backstage before the singer appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, in New York in October 1956. Photograph: CBSNearly a half a century before the advent of social media, Presley's reputation was badly smirched by a baseless rumour claiming he had said: 'The only thing Negroes can do for me is buy my records and shine my shoes.' Parker arranged for the star reporter of the black culture magazine, Jet, to come on to the set of Jailhouse Rock and interview Presley at length about his love of black artists and attending black churches in Memphis. The rumour subsided after the story was published. While undeniably a damage-limitation exercise, Parker's actions appeared to be deeply sincere – he never forgot how an African American family cared for him as a young immigrant at a time when no one else seemed to care less. Divided into two parts – Parker's story and a vast archive of letters – The Colonel and the King peels back the layers of myth, celebrity and the American dream, charting the giddy highs and sorrowful lows. Guralnick reveals Elvis was so stricken by grief following the sudden death of his mother that Parker looked after all the practicalities of the funeral and the acknowledgment of more than 100,000 condolence cards and letters from all over the world. 'While Elvis remained frozen in his grief, Colonel was just as clearly frozen in his inability to help the one person in the world he would have wanted to protect,' Guralnick writes. Unlike most artist and manager relationships, Presley and Parker was a true partnership where profits were 50/50. Such a deal looks exploitative in the context of today's entertainment world, where the standard rate of managerial commission tends to be 20 per cent, but Parker stopped taking on other clients to focus all his time and energy into Elvis. Guralnick calls their relationship 'a unique confluences of forces'. Often perceived as a cigar-chomping con man, The Colonel and the King presents a much more complex and nuanced picture. Photograph: NBCU Photo Bank/ NBCUniversal via Getty Images All responsibilities regarding publicity, marketing, record and concert promotion were handled by Parker rather than being outsourced to other agencies, plus 50 per cent of his fee was reportedly pumped back into Elvis's business. When dealing with Presley's tax liabilities – decades before Americans read George Bush snr's lips and voted for no more taxes – Colonel Parker said: 'Elvis and me got one job: to keep him in the 91 per cent bracket. It would be unpatriotic to go below that figure.' Parker is often perceived as a cigar-chomping con man, but The Colonel and the King presents a much more complex and nuanced picture, which will contribute to the story of Elvis haunting popular culture forever.
Epoch Times
26-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Epoch Times
‘The Medusa Protocol': Hugs, Not Guns
'The Medusa Protocol' is the second in a series of thriller novels about professional assassins attempting to forge better paths in life by using the Alcoholics Anonymous model. The novel isn't a satirical commentary or a Frederick Forsyth or Gregg Hurwitz-style thriller. Mined for Memories The first book in the series, 'Assassins Anonymous,' centered on Mark, professionally known as 'Pale Horse.' He tries to redeem himself and avoid being killed by people from his past. Its sequel, 'The Medusa Protocol,' shifts back and forth between the perspectives of Mark and his would-be love interest, another assassin named Astrid. 'The Medusa Protocol' begins with Astrid waking up in a cell, having been roughly abducted and shipped to an unknown international location. Stoic professional henchmen are everywhere; the newly constructed cell suggests they are looking to hold her captive for a long time. They also blare 'Come On, Eileen' by Dexys Midnight Runners from hidden speakers for hours on end. The future doesn't look promising for Astrid.
